Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Thanksgiving to me has always been truly about giving thanks and family. Of course, food traditions certainly play a part in these memories. But growing up in northeastern PA on a dairy farm, all the family came home to the farm for Thanksgiving. I always looked forward to this. My parents now have a farm in NYS, and with the way we work, holidays like today included, those days of the big thanksgiving on the farm are not the same anymore. My significant other's family has a lovely family gathering though and it is just next door at his sister's so it is still in the country, where I feel it should always be.

After all, we are thankful to God for the harvests and what we have been able to reap with His blessing. So at the farm where the abundance of produce is plentiful makes sense. It also makes sense in being surrounded by the natural beauty of the earth.

This holiday has so many food traditions from house to house and region to region, that it could be celebrated every day with a totally different array of food at each meal! So, I thought I would share a few dishes from around my region with you.

I am here to tell you that the squash and corn pudding I will often make at other times as well, and that salad cannot be beat! They are also simple to make. Another staple here in this part of Pennsylvania is potato stuffing. I love both, combined......how can you lose! So I will share that first!

POTATO STUFFING

Ingredients

1 large onion, finely chopped

2 to 3 celery ribs, finely chopped

6 tablespoons butter, cubed

2 slices white bread, torn

3 cups mashed potatoes

2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley

Directions

In a large saucepan, saute onion and celery in butter until tender. Remove from the heat. Stir in the bread, potatoes and parsley. Spoon into a greased 1-qt. casserole.

Bake, uncovered, at 350° for 45 minutes or until top is lightly browned.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

I have been taking pictures of my tree for almost a year now, in differing lights and seasons. Why? I have no idea except that this lone tree atop Rush Ridge speaks to me. Maybe it's because it sits atop the ridge, silhouttedagainst the sky and surrounded by 200 year old tombstones that murmur of times gone by in a differing era of rural life. Off to the side sits the quintessential little red country church, that still holds services rain or shine or snow or bitter cold and that all the local old farming families still attend.

Perhaps it is that this stately tree reminds me so much of the tree of life. Symbolic in so many ways to Christ, of life and the life cycle. Perhaps it is that I feel God's presence here among the residents of the cemetery whom the tree seems to watch and preside over, like a preacher to his congregation on a sunny Sunday morn.

Whatever the fascination, I love my tree. And I'll continue to photograph him in case that day comes that through the ravages of time he is no longer there to comfort me, or his other patrons. You must admit, trees like this are so regal and are symbolic of so much in life.

The gnarled bare branches heading into winter reminded me, of all things, my grandmother's hands. They were bare and gnarled in her elder years, but had accomplished much. They were the hands of an amazing dynamo of a tiny woman who gardened, sewed, canned and loved.

Yesterday, as I visited my parents, I sat next to my mother. My mother was busy laying out goodies to eat (something we both love), and as she sat next to me with her hands resting upon the table, I noticed that her hands were starting to look like my grandmother's. The arthritis that has made the joints larger, the finer skin, the callouses from being a ranch woman and working outdoors so much. Beautiful hands that cook the yummiest things and create the most beautiful pictures of animals and scenes in pastels, and that can write comforting words of counseling and wisdom and just pure beauty to a soul.

I then looked to my own hands, hands starting to show the midlife age wear and tear with a little arthritis starting, callouses, finer skin etc, just like my mom's. And I thought to myself that I have a preview here, and that if I'm lucky, one day, my hands will be as beautiful as my mother's and my grandmother's. Just like my bare winter tree, with it's gnarled and bare but ever so strong and comforting branches encompassing its silent congregation on the ridge.

WELCOME!

I love to cook. While only an amateur on the fine dining front, I certainly appreciate excellent food of all kinds. Living in this region, I am fortunate enough to have grown and been exposed to a variety of ethnic flavors from Polish, German, Jewish, Irish and Italian influences. The area is rural with a population rich in these backgrounds, having come here for farming and mining as it is also by the Coal Region. Bordering the farming valleys and the Coal Region is PA Dutch Country. (This food and background is not Dutch, but German.) This makes for an interesting fusion, rustic and layered with flavors. Due to the prolific fresh produce, products, and many fresh proteins, flavors pop due to their kaleidoscope of flavor with the changing seasons. Rural and ethnic festivals that really celebrate food are also a major part of my life here. I plan to share from these and family recipes as well, also sharing my favorite places along the way. My friends often tease that they like to travel with me because they know they will eat and drink well!